


Changes Everything Deleted Scene: Early August, 1995, London

by Maiasaura



Series: Changes Everything Universe [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Agender Character, Bisexual Characters, Drug Abuse, Homelessness, LGBT characters, Memory of Rape, Other, PTSD, descriptions of violence, swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 07:19:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6185641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiasaura/pseuds/Maiasaura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neville's POV from when Maggie was Homeless.  </p><p>"I have no space<br/>No room to move around<br/>And this box is getting smaller<br/>I'm trying to get out<br/>How did I get so far<br/>From where I was<br/>When did I decide<br/>To lose my way<br/>Who have I become." </p><p>~ Middle Class Rut, "New Low."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes Everything Deleted Scene: Early August, 1995, London

Have you ever felt lost?

I don’t mean the feeling when you’ve stepped into a corridor that you’ve never seen before. That brief moment of confusion, staring around wildly, mild curiosity – no, no I don’t mean that.

I mean when you’ve been wandering in the woods for so long that you can’t even _breathe_ anymore because everything’s just around you and is too tall and you don’t even know where your nose has gone and you just

Fall

You’re falling

 _That_ kind of lost?

The kind that crushes your soul and laughs at your pain?

I don’t know when it started, really. I don’t know when I just permanently felt like I was trapped inside of an infinite forest with no idea where to go.

But I know that it was when Maggie stopped talking to me.

I lived my whole life, wanting to be with her, knowing that she didn’t want to be with me – and that was okay, I mean, it wasn’t ideal, it was definitely soul crushing at times, but overall, I could deal with that, as long as we were friends. As long as I could talk to her, and have her in my life, because ultimately, that’s what I really wanted.

But then she just… she just stopped.

The warning signs were, I suppose, there.

She had spent the end of term so… disconnected from everyone. Barely reacting or talking to anyone, clearly in shock after the Task and the horrifying events within – but I figured some time away from it all would help her – but she just –

She fell too.

I paced through the room in Grimmauld Place, running my hands through my hair and eventually turning to kick a very dusty piece of furniture. The dust flew up in a cloud, filling the room. I shouted in anger, falling to the ground on my knees and unable to stop myself from sobbing.

“Neville, _breathe_ ,” Hermione urged behind me.

I turned to look at her and I swallowed heavily.

“Hermione –“

“Look, they have a plan to bring her back, okay?”

“Something’s going to go wrong, I _know_ it!” I shouted.

“Neville –“

“Something’s going to go wrong, and we’re going to lose her forever –“

“This isn’t just about the Task. This has to be about something bigger than that,” Hermione whispered.

“Well how are we supposed to figure it out if she refuses to talk to us?!” I roared.

“I don’t know!” Hermione shouted in response, “I don’t know! They’re going to bring her back, okay, they just have to!”

“They don’t _just have_ to do anything! They could fuck it up! It sounds like she has _no intention_ of being dragged here at all!” I shrieked.

“Neville, that’s the whole point of this – tricking her into coming back to us!”

“Maggie is smarter than them! She’s going to get out of it!”

“Nev –“

“Just go, Hermione. Fucking – bloody – just go,” I growled, sitting down on the bed and holding my face in my hands, shaking somewhat from head to foot.

Why wouldn’t she talk to me?

What had I done wrong?

I shouted into my hands and got up, kicking the furniture again.

_She won’t talk to anyone –_

_She’s always out of the house –_

_She’ll wake up in the middle of the night and just leave for hours and hours –_

_You should see how she dresses now –_

_She looks so_ ill _–_

The letters from Harry and Elena about her had been the absolute worst.

I wrote her so many letters, and yet –

I screamed again and kicked a nightstand; it crumpled and broke and I stepped back in fright, wondering what strange demonish creature would come out of it this time – but nothing came except dust.

I swallowed heavily and tried to calm down my breathing –

It felt impossible –

Everything was spinning and going much, much too fast –

I sat back down on the bed and eventually had to lay down, swallowing heavily and closing my eyes.

The only problem was, when my eyes were closed, I remembered so many things that were now like knives to my heart to remember –

Holding her hand when Hermione had been petrified –

Holding _her_ when we watched Harry nearly die in the Chamber –

Tucking her hair behind her ear as we tried to sleep with Sirius Black in the castle –

Protecting her as she lost it after the Task and trying to hold her together –

Every touch now was a painful memory, a stab to my heart, as I wondered – _what had I done to deserve this –_

_I was perfectly happy being her friend –_

The feeling of our hands so close as I told her about my gender –

The _only_ person I’d told – and she just – _left_ –

I screamed into the pillow and sobbed into it, my tears soaking the pillowcase thoroughly as I shook from head to foot.

Either she had turned into the most heartless person imaginable –

Or she was much, much, _much_ worse than I had ever imagined –

I couldn’t believe it was the former, it _had_ to have been the latter. She was sick. She was _very_ sick, in her mind – and she needed help –

And Harry wasn’t doing _anything_ –

I couldn’t blame Elena; she had her own issues. And it wasn’t like her parents could do much if they weren’t even noticing her behavior – Harry had to _tell_ them –

The door opened downstairs; I didn’t expect a voice to be louder than that of Sirius’ mum’s portrait –

But Harry and Hermione were shouting.

“YOU _WHAT?!_ ”

“SHE JUST RAN OUT OF THERE –“

“YOU’VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!”

“WE TRIED TO FOLLOW HER –“

“SHE COULD _NOT_ HAVE GOTTEN THAT FAR –“

“SHE’S A FUCKING SPEED DEMON –“

“NEVILLE IS GOING TO _KILL YOU_ –“

I ran down the stairs as Hermione said that, stopping at the foot of them to see Mr. Johnson and Harry staring at me. Mr. Johnson looked horrified and worried; Harry just looked pissed. Mrs. Johnson and Elena were standing at the side, and Elena was sobbing, while Mrs. Johnson looked at her husband with a murderous expression.

The plan had been very simple. How could they have fucked it up?

I immediately dove at Harry and punched him in the face.

“Neville!” Hermione screamed.

“YOU HAD _ONE BLOODY JOB!”_ I screeched.

“OH FUCK OFF –“ Harry roared, lunging at me.

“ONE FUCKING JOB, YOU _PRICK_!” I screamed, and I punched him again, but now he wasn’t going to let it stand – his fist connected with my face and I spun backwards, hitting the stairs hard – my mouth tasted like blood – Hermione screamed in protest –

“I COULDN’T FUCKING STOP HER, SHE DIDN’T WANT TO STAY – DON’T BLAME ME FOR THIS –“

“SHE’S CLEARLY SICK!” I managed to blubber, “SHE’S _CLEARLY_ MENTALLY ILL –“

“SHE SAID SHE COULDN’T BE HERE ANYMORE, I HAD NO CHANCE, AND FUCK, WHY SHOULD I BE RESPONSIBLE FOR HER?!” Harry roared.

“BECAUSE SHE’S YOUR FUCKING SISTER!” I screamed.

“SHE DOESN’T WANT TO BE A PART OF OUR LIVES ANYMORE, NEVILLE! GET THE _FUCK_ OVER HER! YOU’RE _PATHETIC_!” Harry shouted.

It was like getting slapped in the face. I stared at him for a long time; everyone was shocked into silence, and the silence was heavy in the air.

“She’s sick,” I stated calmly, “She would not do this if there wasn’t something terribly wrong. You know that, you _dick_.”

Harry glared at me even more, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m not going to go let her starve to death on the streets. This has nothing to do with what romantic feelings I have for her,” I took a deep breath, “It has to do with the fact that I fucking _care_ about her, and I don’t want her to _die_ , which I figured, you at least shared.”

Harry glared further and stomped away, into the kitchen. I immediately turned without another word and ran upstairs, grabbing my knapsack and stuffing it with supplies.

“Son –“

I flinched automatically but turned to face Mr. Johnson.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked quietly, looking troubled and horrified with everything.

“I – no, sir, if that’s alright,” I choked out, “I – I’d rather – I don’t want to overwhelm her if I find her.”

“Alright,” Mr. Johnson nodded, “She went in the direction north of the Leaky Cauldron – but I doubt she’s anywhere near there by now.”

I nodded in understanding, feeling an icy determination enter my heart. I had to save her. She couldn’t die. I couldn’t let her die.

The world needed Maggie Johnson.

“Come home every night, at least, and sleep in a bed. I don’t want you getting sick or hurt on the streets, too,” Mr. Johnson shook his head sadly, “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, and I ran down the stairs and out the door, ignoring everyone else.

And thus began the longest week of my entire life.

The first night was dark and cold. I should not have been out on the streets so late, but then again, neither should she. The thought kept me going as I explored the streets fruitlessly. I eventually gave up when I could no longer keep my eyes open.

The second day was long and tiring. I ran about London like a maniac.

Running, everywhere.

Searching, everywhere.

It felt like there was a ticking clock above my head, tick tick tick tick, not even tocking because everything was going as fast as it could and I could barely think, but when the clock stopped, she’d be dead, on the streets, all alone –

The thought broke my heart _so much_ that I had to lean against a wall in an alleyway and collect myself for a long amount of time. It felt like an entire avalanche of bricks had fallen on top of my heart and crushed it.

I took a shaking breath and ran my hand through my hair, which was getting exceptionally long. Still it made me comforted, to feel like… like myself. My hand was still shaking and I could barely breathe normally but I closed my eyes tightly and forced myself onward. If I was to stop that picture from happening, then I had to keep moving.

Still, London was a huge city – a _huge_ city. It was ancient and terrifying and winding and a Labyrinth of side streets and mazes of alleys.

And so on the second day I went home empty handed, throwing myself on my bed and sobbing into my pillow when I had gotten home.

“It’s a lost cause,” Harry shouted angrily from another room.

“Oh shut up,” Hermione hissed.

“You’re not helping,” Ginny agreed.

“You lot didn’t see her. It’s a lost cause. And why the bloody hell won’t anyone tell me what the bloody hell is going on?!” Harry screeched.

“We don’t know either, what the Order’s getting up to –“

“Fuck that, fuck this, fuck everything!”

I simply clutched my pillow and sobbed harder into it.

Third day, it finally occurred to me that she might go to the Museum. So I went. I went to the Dinosaur section and wandered about it, looking for her. But I was probably too late. She probably had gone there first thing, and wouldn’t come back again.

Still, I knew searching London was a lost cause. So I stayed at the Museum, staring outside at the rain in terror and fear, wondering if I was too late, if she was dead from cold under a bridge somewhere, shivering and shaking all alone and dead.

I was often sobbing heavily on a bench in the Dinosaurs exhibit during those days.

And I’d go home and cry some more.

I didn’t even notice that my birthday had passed. Why would I, anyway. How could it possibly have been a happy birthday at all.

It was truly comforting that I wasn’t a boy, or else I’d feel worse for needing to cry so much. But I wasn’t a boy, and who cared about gender roles anyway.

It’s this kind of situation, in the end, that makes you feel hopeless. But I wouldn’t stop until I found her, dead or alive, as much as I needed it to be the latter.

I was so relieved when the rain cleared up.

I was tired, really. It had gone on for a week and I was tired. I wandered into the Museum again, wondering if this was a dumb idea, if she wouldn’t come here because she had changed _that much_ , wandering about the main hall watching the great crowd of people come in. I wasn’t hopeful. I was just tired.

I leaned against a wall and watched the trickle, trying to look inconspicuous with my hoodie pulled up over my head. There were lots of small, adorable children milling about, talking to their parents, looking _so excited_ to see the dinosaurs that were much too scaly, according to Maggie. Still, how the muggles could know that, she acknowledged, she didn’t know. Not like they had found non-avian, feathered dinosaur fossils yet. Perhaps soon.

I saw a familiar swish of a ponytail in my reverie; I almost thought I was hallucinating it out of want. I perked up, leaning towards the crowd, watching the dark brown hair swish back and forth as the person in all black walked with the crowd. I immediately followed it, my heart in my throat – plenty of people had hair that shade, but very few had skin that color. So dark and warm. I could barely breathe as I followed the crowd and bobbed and weaved between the members – what were the odds that she decided to go this late in her escape to the Museum? But what were the odds that there was another Cherokee girl in London?

Okay, probably high, London was huge, but another Cherokee girl with _that hair_ trying to see dinosaurs?

I had to check it out –

I managed to get closer in the crowd; it wasn’t that busy of a day, despite it still being the summer holiday. I swallowed and hid behind a pillar as the source of the ponytail stared up at the _Camarasaurus_ ; I couldn’t breathe as I waited for her to turn her head, hoping so much that it was her –

She turned, briefly, and even though it was Maggie, it was not a Maggie I recognized.

I covered my mouth to hide my gasp and try and muffle the sob that wracked my body. She was covered in dirt; her hair was matted in the front, and she had the darkest circles around her eyes. Her face was blotchy and pale in places and she looked violently ill. She also looked like she hadn’t properly slept in days – though, I supposed, she hadn’t.

I swallowed heavily and tried to control myself, but all I wanted to do was run forward and hold her to me. She looked like she was going to break apart into a thousand tiny pieces at any second.

She wandered through the museum, looking up with joy at all the dinosaurs. She looked so happy, and so broken, it was horrifying. I recognized the smile, but I didn’t recognize the face.

 _If you go after her now, she’ll run_.

I knew I had to corner her while she slept, or I’d lose her in the crowd.

I felt like a horrible person for even _thinking_ it, but I couldn’t help it. I had to save her, and the only way I could do that was if I managed to trap her. It was like I was thinking about an animal, and it made me horrified with myself, but I didn’t know what else to do.

How else could I stop her from killing herself on the streets?

The thought of her dying strengthened my resolve. It was a dirty tactic, but I didn’t have another choice. The world needed Maggie Johnson.

I followed her through the museum – my god, she could stare at dinosaurs, though that wasn’t fair of me to think, as I had been here every day for most of the week – and then outside a café. I was starving, but I was much more afraid of losing sight of her than I was of not having food. Every time she looked around, sensing that someone was watching her – that _I_ was watching her – I quickly dove so she couldn’t see me.

I couldn’t lose her again.

She grabbed the fire escape of a nearby building and pulled it down, and I watched with fascination as she shimmied up onto the roof of the building. I had to give her this, she was good at being on the run. I waited, watching the fire escape as night fell, and quietly followed up, trying my hardest not to make a sound.

She was curled up into the smallest ball I had ever seen, shaking and shivering on the roof. I tried to stop my sob and managed to, again; holding my hands over my mouth and diving onto the gravel to stare at her. Her knees were curled up tightly against her body, and she was wearing two sweatshirts even though it was a fairly warm night; her jeans were torn up and dirty, and her trainers were coming loose at the uppers. She was clutching something tight in her sweatshirt pocket, and her knapsack was against her back and between her and the wall, tight where no one could reach it.

She was so small.

So very, very, _very_ small.

I had only seen her that tiny a few times. Most of the end of last term, after that douche had broken her heart… or even worse. That horrifying time second year, that I still didn’t know what had happened.

But this was worse than all of that. She was small, and she was sick. I couldn’t sleep; I could only watch her as she slept, tiredly sitting up and watching her body and making sure she kept breathing. She breathed, but slowly – it was almost like she wasn’t at all sometimes, and I would check in alarm, getting far too close, putting my hand next to her mouth to just be relieved that air was coming from her lips and nose. She would cough sometimes, too, loud terrifying coughs that shook her entire tiny body and made her sound like she was trying to remove her lungs. I couldn’t stop crying as I watched, and I spent that whole night just making sure she lived through it, terrified that I would lose her when I was this close to having found her again.

As light crept up over the horizon, I sat back away from her and watched her intently.

I couldn’t lose sight of her. I had to make sure that I kept her here, and I kept her safe. It was time to bring her home.

She shifted a little, her breathing increasing in tempo to something like that of a normal, living human being. She coughed again, so vigorously that I felt my heart shatter in my chest, somehow, even though it had already done so plenty. She groaned quietly, holding tightly to herself by wrapping her arms around her body, as though she was trying to keep herself put together – well, she kind of was, at any rate.

She moaned quietly and held to herself tightly for another moment before slowly opened. So green, so beautiful, usually on a white background, but now red and blotchy and puffy- oh Maggie –

She looked around sluggishly, examining all the different parts of the roof, passing over me – probably in her tiredness, she thought nothing of it – before snapping back to me.

“AHHHHHH,” she screamed, jumping back from me as far as she could manage. I kept my eyes on her, unwilling to let her leave my sight. She curled up around herself, pulling her knees against her body, shaking and staring at me in fear.

It stung.

It stung very hard.

_Neville, she’s sick, pull yourself together, this isn’t about you at all._

“How the fucking bloody hell did you find me?” she screamed, her voice shaking and hoarse, clearly acting like a wounded animal.

_Shit_

My eyes widened as I realized how much of a mistake I had made in cornering her – she was panicking, definitely panicking, and freaking out so much –

Shit

Shit

Shit

I crawled towards her, I needed to comfort her, I needed to calm her down, I put my hand on her need to get her to calm down, but, she flinched back.

It hurt, but I knew it wasn’t me.

_It’s not you._

_It’s not you._

_It’s not you._

She fell to the ground and curled around herself, hugging her knees to her chest and weeping.

My heart shattered more. It was now dust, settled at the bottom of my chest.

She wrapped her arms around her head so tightly that I was worried she’d smash her head – she was physically trying to hold herself together –

_Let me help you Mags_

_Please let me help_

_Let me help you keep you together, I don’t think you’re doing well on you own, look at you, please, please, please, please –_

Oh god, she was screaming now –

It pierced my soul –

It stabbed my lungs and all of the air rushed out of them in a gasp, and I could barely breathe, and tears were leaking out of my eyes and I swallowed hoping to stop the gasps from escaping my body but I was failing miserably and oh god Maggie just let me help, please, please, please

“Maggie – Maggie please – Maggie _please_ calm down – Maggie it’s just me – oh my god,” I managed to gasp out, unable to keep in the words any longer, needing to get her to calm down, before she broke, she was breaking right in front of me and I didn’t know how to stop it –

She curled up tighter around herself, shaking madly like she had when she was asleep, and I couldn’t help it –

“Oh my god, this is worse than they said, Maggie please, Maggie,” I begged, reaching out for her arm and unable to stop her from shivering and shaking with fear. She was weeping – oh god she was weeping – Maggie –

“Maggie, please Maggie, oh god, Maggie, oh no, oh god, Maggie,” I wept with her, sobs wracking through my body as I tried to breathe correctly and failed, so pained for her – what had she gone through – what had happened to her – not Maggie – who hurt her – who could have hurt Maggie this much – they didn’t deserve to breathe anymore –

_WHAT THE FUCK_

Maggie was gone, and in her place was a _dragon_

_A DRAGON_

_A CROCODILE SIZED, CERULEAN COLORED DRAGON WITH HORNS ALL DOWN ITS SPINE AND – AND – FEATHERS?! POKING OUT BETWEEN ITS SCALES AND – WHAT THE – FOUR LEGS – TWO WINGS – CYAN COLORED MEMBRANES BETWEEN THE FINGERS OF THE RINGS – A HEAD LIKE A DROMAEOSAUR – HORNS ON THE HEAD PLUS SOME FEATEHRS – TEETH POKING OUT FROM THE MOUTH –_

_WHAT THE FUCK_

_WHERE WAS MAGGIE_

_WHAT THE HELL_

“FUCK!” I screamed, jumping back in terror.

_Animagus_

Right, she wanted to be an animagus, she was becoming an animagus

Of course she was a fucking dragon

I was so caught up in figuring out what happened I barely noticed as she ran across the roof and made a move to fly away. As I finally registered that she was starting to leave, my heart lodged in my throat and I realized I had lost her – I had failed – she had escaped but she was going to die –

But then she stopped running. She collapsed on the edge of the roof and I watched, mesmerized, as she turned back into a human, becoming small and frail again, sobbing into her hands.

“Go away,” she whimpered as I crawled towards her, “Just _go away_.”

I hurt, but I knew it was her fear talking – at least – that was what I told myself.

“No,” I whispered.

“DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME? _GO AWAY!_ ” she screamed louder, whirling on her legs to stare at me, glaring, her face pale and blotchy and her eyes with dark circles underneath them and themselves were red and puffy and she was covered in dirt and she was clearly sick and I could see her veins and arteries under her skin and her hair was just matted and tangled and she was so sick and clearly dying and oh Maggie no no no no no

“No, I can’t do that, I _can’t_ ,” I insisted, _I can’t let you die._

“WHY NOT?” she screamed, her voice so hoarse and different than I remembered.

“Because I can’t leave you, okay?” I blurted out without thinking, “I can’t! Maggie you are _everything_ to me and I don’t know what’s happened to you but I can’t just let you destroy yourself!”

“I’m not destroying myself! I’ve already been destroyed! Now I’m just waiting for it to end!” she roared.

No

No no no no no no

As long as she was still breathing, she was not destroyed. I would save her. I would help her. I would do whatever it took to keep her alive. She couldn’t die. No.

“Who destroyed you?” I demanded and she broke down into tears again and buried her face in her knees, “Tell me, Maggie, I have to – I can’t – I _won’t_ –“

I won’t let you die

I won’t let them get away with it

“Everything destroyed me!” Maggie gasped, shivering in her own arms, “Everything!”

_No no no no no no no_

“Oh god, Maggie,” I managed to gasp out, wanting to hold her tightly in my arms and being unable to, all I could do was shake.

How could she be so broken.

How did I not save her before?

How did I not help her before?

She was sobbing horrifically. Why didn’t I just go to America and insist on seeing her? Why didn’t I beg her to talk to me at the end of term? Why didn’t I – so may things – why was I such an idiot –

“Please tell me what happened,” I begged as she continued to sob. She looked up rapidly, and she still looked so sick and malnourished and dying, and it broke my heart even more.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

I began crawling over to her, because I couldn’t handle it anymore.

She looked torn, frozen on the spot, watching me as though I would hurt her.

_Why would I ever hurt you._

_Who could have hurt you so much?_

_Why would I ever want to make you like this?_

“Please, Maggie. Please. I can’t – this is so – I haven’t slept a week since term ended,” I begged. I was so tired and desperate I could barely think anymore. She looked at me, and her face was softening, probably because she was registering that I was covered in dirt and so, so tired.

“M-Maggie… _please_ ,” I begged as she cried heavily and shook her head, and I pulled at my hair because I didn’t know what to do and I cried because I didn’t know what to do and what do I do what do I do what do I do what do I do

She let out a loud wail and suddenly she was in my arms, diving towards me and burying her face in my chest, weeping heavily. I immediately wrapped my arms around her as tightly as I could as she wept into them, holding her as tightly as I could. I had to keep her together. I had to stop her from falling apart.

I would have been content with that, but after a while of her crying her arms were wrapped around me, too, and my heart lodged in my throat. I ignored it. She was just glad to have someone to hold.

She pulled back from me, wiping the tears from her face and shaking.

“How did you find me?” she asked softly. I sighed.

I fucked up.

“Erm… okay. I’ve been staying at the safe house this holiday. Most everyone has been,” I explained softly, “The Order thought it was safest if Harry’s closest associates were in a secret-kept house.”

For whatever reason, she buried her face in my chest again. She was gripping my sweater tightly in her arms and – smelling? Was she smelling me?

She’s just trying to calm herself down.

She’s just trying to keep her self together.

I squeezed her tightly.

“Anyway… erm… Harry’s been writing to Hermione and me all summer. Saying that you won’t talk to anyone anymore, you’re always out and hardly ever home… and that you said you weren’t going to go home with your family, you were going to run away,” I admitted. She looked up from my chest and at me, her face contorting into a glare.

“HE _TOLD YOU_?” she screamed.

“Of course he did!” I protested, “He wants you safe!”

I swallowed and shook my head sadly, “We all do!”

Maggie snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, holding herself tightly.

“At any rate, he also told your mum… and they realized they couldn’t exactly force you to come home. So they came up with a plan,” _that you are not going to be happy about_.

Maggie glared even more.

Yup.

“They would pretend they were in great danger – and you all had to leave right away. Your grandparents would go along with it, and then send the rest of your stuff along later. You would be rushed back home under the threat of danger, and in the middle so there would be people behind you to stop you from leaving, and people ahead of you to apprehend you if you escaped. The only problem was, your mum cleared everything with your government, but she forgot to clear it with Tom the barkeeper at the Leaky Cauldron. She didn’t want the Ministry to receive word that you were having a tough time, see. They’ve been looking for an excuse to expel you or throw you in a mental ward for ages. So he got mad at your dad and Harry… and that’s when you ran away.”

I grimaced.

She was going to explode.

“One… two… three… four…” she muttered.

“What are you doing?” I asked. Was she okay? Why was she counting? What was happening now?

My Maggie, what had happened to you?

_She’s not yours_

Well she was my best friend anyway and dammit if she wasn’t someone who gave my life meaning.

“Counting out loud so I don’t shift without wanting to,” Maggie hissed.

_Shifting_

So she shifted when she was mad – or stressed – or scared –

This was a problem –

“Five… six… seven… eight… nine… ten,” she counted, looking up and locking eyes with me.

So much green.

So much –

My breath caught in my throat but I forced myself to keep talking.

“Anyway… so when you ran, they tried to get you, but they couldn’t keep up… obviously,” I sighed.

Not that Harry bloody tried hard enough anyway.

“Well, they came home, and I kind of… lost it. They were supposed to bring you home safe so we could try and help you. They failed, and I blamed them entirely… So I immediately left and started looking for you. I always went back to the safe house at night; I knew I couldn’t sleep out here. After two days of searching everywhere for you, I felt like I had lost all hope… but then I realized that you would _have_ to go to the Museum at some point… I prayed that you hadn’t already, or that at the least you would go back, and I’ve been stalking the dinosaur exhibit ever since.”

She looked furious with herself.

I tried to ignore how this made me feel.

“When I saw you yesterday…” I swallowed, my entire heart clenching, “Oh god, Maggie, I was so relieved.”

I was crying, but

I didn’t care

“I was so happy you were _alive_.”

Please stay with me

Please stay alive

“I followed you around the whole day; when you went to bed, I waited for a little bit, and then followed you up here. I slept a little bit… but I mostly spent the night waiting for you to wake up.”

Hoping you’d wake up.

“I see,” she muttered angrily.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re probably furious at me, but I couldn’t…” _let you die_ “I had to try and find you.”

“I have a right to leave if I want to,” she muttered.

“I have a right to closure; I just want to know _why_ ,” I begged. Why do you want to die?

“I told you. I’m destroyed,” she answered.

“That’s not a real answer!” I wanted to scream, but I refrained. It wasn’t. It didn’t tell me _anything_. “I’m sorry. I just thought I meant more to you than this.”

I thought we were best mates.

I thought you cared about me.

How could I be so wrong?

“Of _course_ you do,” she stated almost instantaneously, reassuring me again – this wasn’t her. This was something wrong. Something was happening in her brain and she couldn’t stop it.

“This is… just… I…” she couldn’t get the words out. She looked like she was about to start screaming again.

I held my face in my hands and tried to not cry.

“Why didn’t you just approach me yesterday?’ she whispered.

“I didn’t want you to run,” I murmured, “I admit that was pretty scummy of me. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to catch up with you.”

_I can’t let you die._

She sighed and stared at me. I looked back at her desperately, begging her in my mind to forgive me and to try and move past this with me.

I needed her to live.

The thought her leaving this world made my heart disappear. My chest was empty. A dementor had sucked away my soul.

Her facial expression was nearly impossible to read; if only I could read it. If only I knew how to proceed to keep her alive. She didn’t have to be with me. I could accept that in time.

But a world without her was a world that was doomed.

“It’s very hard for me to say what happened to me,” she whispered after a while.

I scooted closer, but I still kept respectfully back. I needed her to know it was safe. I wasn’t going to hurt her.

“I figured,” I murmured.

She was looking at me with such fear and helplessness that I just needed to hold her and reassure her it was all going to be okay, but I couldn’t. Not yet.

“Whenever I even _think_ about it I start – I get – “ she whimpered, and she was shaking so violently I thought she was going to fall apart, and I couldn’t stop myself from wrapping my arm around her, holding her as tightly as I could just to keep her _together_. She turned her head and wept into my chest, and I couldn’t actually breathe correctly, but I forced myself to, even though she was touching so many parts of me and so tightly that I thought she wanted to fuse our bodies together.

The thought made my heart just stop for a full beat before starting again.

_Not the bloody time, Longbottom._

“Whenever I think about it,” she mumbled into my chest, “I start to feel like I’m there again. It’s _like_ I’m there again. I – all my senses – I’m remembering it, so vividly, it’s as if I’m there,” she finished.

_Oh god no_

“Oh my god,” I gasped out, “Maggie… Maggie I’m so sorry… I had _no_ idea…”

“And sometimes,” she cut me off, “The littlest thing will make me start to remember. It’s not always that vivid… like I’m there… but it’s still intrusive. I still don’t _want_ to remember. And I get nightmares every night… or at least, I did…”

_Why’d they stop?_

_Oh Maggie – why did they stop?_

“Ad I’m scared all the time, and paranoid all the time. I can’t sleep, I fee… so… so much shame,” she whimpered.

_Oh my love, why?_

“I get startled so easily… I’m so numb all the time… I have no hope anymore… and it’s all been so terrible that I couldn’t even really… talk to anyone about it.”

Was it possible for anything to destroy me more than this?

“Oh my god,” I whispered, “What… is there a _term_ for this…”

She was sick.

She was sick and she needed help and no one had been helping her and why was no one helping her _I had to help her_

“I dunno. Probably,” she mumbled.

“I have to figure this out,” _I have to save you,_ “We need to get you treatment. We need to get you _help_.”

“I’m scared of going to a therapist,” she mumbled in the smallest voice I had ever heard her use, “The Ministry will find out. They’ll lock me away.”

_Fuck that, I’ll fight the entire Ministry for you if I have to._

_I will slice them all in half with my sword._

“Not if I can help it,” I stated simply, “Come on. We’re going to the library. I’ll figure out what this is, and I’ll try to help you, as much as I can, at first.”

“Okay,” she murmured, “Can… can we eat first?’

My stomach growled at her words.

“Do you have money?” I sighed, “I don’t have anything… I’ve been going back to the house for food, but you went and got food yesterday.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, looking ashamed of herself, “I… I stole. I don’t even remember who from, I can’t return it.”

_Well I don’t care. You’re alive, and you’re here, and for now it looks like you won’t run away again…_

I rubbed her shoulder though – was that okay? I was so scared of freaking her out and making her run away again – “It’s okay. You are going through a lot, and you’ll never do it again, right?”

She whimpered, and the sound broke my heart

_Again_

“I don’t know if I can go home, Neville.”

Then I’ll go wherever you do.

“One step at a time,” I murmured, “Food. Food is the first step, okay?”

She nodded and we climbed down together. I had no idea how she was so graceful and adept at it – it was mesmerizing to watch as I followed, clumsily and awkwardly. On land again, though, I quickly wrapped my arm around her and held her as close to me as possible, terrified that she’d take off running, leave, and die.

She had been barely breathing.

We entered a coffee shop and she bought us pastries. I devoured the food; I had been starving after all, or maybe I was just scared? At any rate she picked at it slower, her face pale and her skin kind of clammy. I held her hand as she ate – I couldn’t stop myself, and she didn’t pull away – and I gently rubbed the top of it. I continuously rubbed circles into her skin, watching as the dark cells moved underneath my very pale thumb. I could only hope that I was helping.

I needed her to feel safe again.

She finished; we left, and I kept her close to me still. We walked towards the tube station – there were no libraries anywhere visible, and she seemed to know where to go.

“I assume you could… buy me a ticket?” I asked her sheepishly. She nodded and wordlessly bought me one for the tube, and I held her as we sat on the train, her shivering again, and I could see tears going down her cheeks that I’m sure she didn’t want me to sea.

We got off; she walked towards a library, as I had figured. I read the signs and found the section on Psychology, a word I had heard but was only vaguely aware of what it meant. I just knew it meant helping the mind, which was definitely Maggie’s need. Maggie sat on a couch and I brought many tomes from the psychology section to it, making sure to watch her out of the corner of my eye. I needed her to stay.

She watched me, but she looked tired as she did so, her eyelids drooping. She didn’t look like herself at all, but the way her eyes drooped was still cute, and I tried to ignore that.

I opened the book and started reading about symptoms.

_Startled easily…_

I read an entry on Anxiety. 

This didn’t sound right at all.

“No… no that’s not it…” I muttered as she watched me from the couch, trying to ignore how having her eyes so focused on me made my heart leap into my throat.

_Reckless behavior…_

I read about Borderline Personality Disorder.

Her relationships were unstable, but she had so many other symptoms besides, that I couldn’t really justify stopping. It had to be something else.

“No, not _quite_ right…”

_Intrusive thoughts…_

I read about Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

That wasn’t even close.

“Nah…”

I was starting to feel helpless myself, but I ignored it.

_Feeling numb all the time…_

I read an entry on Depression.

It was close – she probably had that most of the time – but it wasn’t quite right.

“Oh, that’s close… still… doesn’t exactly match…”

I read about everything. I just went back to the beginning of the book and began reading through all the short blurbs about each disorder. Maggie was curled up close to me on the couch, and I could see she had drifted off, her mouth open a little as she breathed – very steadily and visibly – as she slept.

_Stay with me, Mags._

As I went through the list, I read _Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder_.

I swallowed.

If there was anyone in this world who has been through trauma, it was her.

_PTSD is a disorder that develops in some people who have seen or lived through a shocking, scary, or dangerous event… Fear triggers many split-second changes in the body… Nearly everyone will experience a range of reactions after trauma… Those who continue to experience problems may be diagnosed with PTSD. People with PTSD may feel stressed or frightened even when they are not in danger…_

_To be diagnosed with PTSD, an adult must have all of the following for at least 1 month…_

Well it had been more than a month since she had left, I’d call that close enough.

_At least one re-experiencing symptom; at least one avoidance symptom; at least two arousal and reactivity symptoms; at least two cognition and mood symptoms._

_Re-experiencing symptoms: flashbacks – reliving the trauma over and over, including physical symptoms like a racing heart or sweating. Bad dreams. Frightening thoughts._

She had all fucking three.

_Avoidance symptoms include: staying away from places, events, or objects that are reminders of the traumatic experience. Feeling emotionally numb. Feeling strong guilt, depression, or worry. Losing interest in activities that were enjoyable in the past. Having trouble remembering the dangerous event._

Apart from the last one, she had mentioned – or I had noticed – all of those.

Running away was starting to seem _logical_ for her.

Oh Maggie.

_Arousal and reactivity symptoms include: being easily startled. Feeling tense or “on edge”. Having difficulty sleeping. Having angry outbursts._

Well she definitely had the first two, and according to Harry, she also wasn’t sleeping right.

_Cognition and mood symptoms include: trouble remembering key features of the traumatic event. Negative thoughts about oneself or the world. Distorted feelings like guilt or blame. Loss of interest in enjoyable activities._

Well fuck.

She had three out of the four of those two.

I reached out and gently stroked her hair. She didn’t move much, but kept breathing, which is all I wanted anyway.

_Some risk factors that increase the likelihood of PTSD include living through dangerous events and traumas –_

She had that in spades –

_Getting hurt_

So much, and it broke my heart every time

_Seeing another person hurt, or seeing a dead body –_

Oh god, she saw so much of that during the Task

_Childhood trauma_

Remember when she sacrificed herself for Harry?

Finding the spiders?

Fighting the basilisk?

Holding onto you as you got dragged away by a giant bloody dog?

Yup. She had

_So much_

Childhood trauma.

_Feeling horror, helplessness, or extreme fear_

Obviously, she had been feeling that.

_Having little or no social support after the event_

Well fuck.

It was all my fault.

 ** _I’ll fix it_**.

_Dealing with extra stress after the event, such as loss of a loved one, pain and injury, or loss of a job or home._

I’d call Voldemort coming back a stressful event.

_Having a history of mental illness._

She probably had depression. So. There was that.

_Drug abuse and alcohol abuse commonly co-occur with PTSD –_

What?

I looked over at her. I remembered how little she had breathed the night before.

I looked at the dark circles under her eyes.

I reached for her hand, and wanted to wake her up. But first I wanted to look up what that might be.

Harry had mentioned in his letters that she’d go out at night, frequently; and it had seemed like she was partying.

I looked through the books, searching desperately for symptoms of substance abuse, and the distinctions between different substances and their effects.

I was a wix; how the hell was _I_ supposed to know about drugs?

_Methamphetamine: wired, sleeplessness, loss of appetite –_

No this wasn’t it at all.

_Ecstasy: changes in stimulation, altered perception of sound, light –_

No, not at all, not even a little bit.

_Cocaine: Impaired thinking, confusion, anxiety, depression, sleeplessness –_

Anything that made her sleep _less_ was not it, she was having trouble _sleeping_ with the freaking _nightmares_. Until she changed something.

Until she started taking… _something_.

_LSD: Dilated pupils, skin discoloration, loss of coordination, false sense of power –_

No, geez, no

_PCP: Violent behavior, paranoia, aggression –_

No…

_Inhalants: euphoria, giggling, dizziness, silliness, headaches –_

This was getting ridiculous.

_Alcohol: well-being and relaxation, lower inhibitions, sensation of warmth, slurred speech, slower reaction time, loss of consciousness –_

Oh please just be drinking alcohol. _Please._ Please just have an alcohol problem.

_Marijuana: compulsive eating, bloodshot eyes, dry mouth, laughter, lack of motivation, laziness –_

Please just be smoking marijuana, please, thought that didn’t mathc up right –

_Depressants: decreased inhibition, slower coordination, lethargy, staggering gait –_

Oh god no, please no –

_Heroin: euphoria, a dreamlike state in which the person can drift off for hours or minutes at a time, can lead to lung damage and –_

I couldn’t read any more of that.

It matched up closest, but I couldn’t read it, I had to shut the book and send it far away from me.

She was killing herself.

She was going to die unless she came off of it.

I took a deep breath and gently shook her, hoping that she’d wake up – _praying_ that she’d wake up –

Her eyes opened up slowly, green meeting mine, entrancing and overwhelming even in their sickly state.

“Maggie,” I murmured softly, my heart pounding in my throat. This was my first real confrontation with her about this.

She tilted her head to the side – I would have found it adorable, under better circumstances.

“Why did you stop having nightmares?” I asked softly. Her face paled, and she swallowed, and she was shaking again, and I wanted to help her but I needed her to tell me what she was taking.

She held something in her pocket – whatever she had been clutching so tightly last night. She stared at me and I stared back at her, my heart racing and my brain praying for it to be the best-case scenario.

_Please just be taking marijuana._

_Please._

She pulled out the packet from her pocket and handed it to me. I looked at it for a while.

It looked like what they had described heroin as.

It certainly wasn’t marijuana.

And heroin matched the symptoms the best.

She was dying.

She was killing herself.

She was going to die.

_Maggie._

_Oh Maggie._

My heart was clenching in my chest and I didn’t know how to breathe anymore.

I had to stop it.

I couldn’t let her die.

I couldn’t let her kill herself.

There was no way in hell I was letting her kill herself.

Never.

I got up, took her hand, and pulled her out of the library. We were on the street, and people were pushing past us, and I knew I had to do it, even if it was cruel, or mean, or terrible. I had to. I looked at her intently, gathering up all my courage.

“You have PTSD,” I began.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Post-traumatic stress disorder,” I stated, “You’re a textbook case.”

“Oh,” she whispered.

“Everything you’ve experienced – the flashbacks, the being unable to stop thinking about it, the being triggered by the littlest reminder, the nightmares, the trouble sleeping, the feeling numb, the withdrawal from personal relationships, the self destructive behavior, the hopelessness – _everything_ – is completely normal.”

_You’ve done nothing wrong._

_My love, please know that you’ve done nothing wrong._

“Even the use of drugs to self-medicate.”

“Oh,” she mumbled.

“One of the books I read described some of the drugs people used,” I held up the heroin, my hand shaking a little, “This is heroin.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“This can kill you. This _will_ kill you,” I murmured, my voice trembling with fear.

“Probably,” she agreed. Well at least she knew.

“You are probably already addicted,” I continued, “And I can understand why you’d use it to sleep.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, quite pathetically, “It makes the nightmares go away.”

“I’m getting rid of it,” I breathed, as firm as I could be, because I couldn’t let her continue.

“What – no!” she screamed, as I expected, grabbing onto my hands and holding them so tightly I couldn’t feel my fingers. I shook my head in response.

“I will _not_ let you kill yourself. I’m sorry. I won’t,” I insisted, and then I took the bag of the horrible thing and threw it into a bin. Maggie began crying and she reached for the bin, but I dragged her away, walking as long and as far away from it as I could, wrapping my arm tightly around her shoulder as she sobbed.

The sound killed me, but her dying would kill me more.

We found another building and I helped her get onto the roof.

“Why are we up here?” she whimpered.

“”I want us to be able to talk without anyone interrupting,” I explained, “Come on. Let’s sit.”

She sat down and tucked her knees into her chest and started crying again. I looked at her as kindly as I could, knowing that I had just destroyed half her world, knowing that I had taken away something that had been a true comfort for her.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, “I know that was horrible. But I don’t know what else to do about it, and I can’t watch you die.”

 _I just can’t_.

 _It would kill me too_.

She coughed so hard that her whole body shook; I watched in horror as she let it escape, her small frail body – why was it so small, why wasn’t she my strong Maggie – shaking with the effort.

Oh god.

Oh god no.

Don’t – no.

Maggie – no – please – no

“Yeah, like that,” I whispered, trying my hardest to keep myself put together, “If you die… Maggie, if you die, I’ll die, okay?”

_Please don’t be scared away by that_

She watched me for a while, her green eyes piercing my soul, before nodding.

“I will do anything I can to help you with your nightmares,” I continued desperately, “Anything. But you’re not going to be doing that stuff anymore.” _I will help you, I will help you, oh my Maggie, I will help you, just don’t die –_

“Okay,” she whispered, “I’m scared.”

_Reassure her, but don’t sugarcoat it._

“It’s going to be bad. I’ve read the withdrawal symptoms,” I swallowed, “But I will be with you every step of the way.”

“Okay,” she murmured.

_You’re forcing yourself on her._

_Stop it._

“Unless you don’t want me to be,” I murmured.

_She has every right to cut you out of her life._

_She has no obligation to you._

_Why would she?_

_You’re worthless._

Stop that.

It’s her life, and her choice, but you just want her to be alive, that’s all you want.

She’s not yours.

Stop thinking that she’s yours.

“No, no, I do,” she murmured, and she looked honestly.

_Oh thank god._

_Just let me help you, that’s all I want to do._

“Good,” I murmured, “We still don’t have to go back yet. I know it could be triggering for you.”

She nodded rapidly.

I was tempted to take her and run away, far away from all this horrible stuff with the war and everything else – she had to live.

Canada sounded nice.

“Can… can you try and tell me what happened? Once you’ve told me once, I will literally never ask you to repeat it to me again, I promise,” I begged, “Just once, and then you’re done. You never have to say it again. Fuck, if you decide you want other people to know, _I’ll_ tell them for you. I’m not likely to forget it.”

_Please just let me help._

_Please let me keep you alive._

She stared at me, and it made me shiver, the intensity of it. She then rested her head on my shoulder, and I tried to not think of how close she was to me.

Now was not the time.

“It’s hard,” she mumbled, “I’ve spent all this time trying to forget it ever happened –“

“The _moment_ ,” I had to reassure her, “You need to stop, do so. You can tell me as slowly as you need. This can even take days. I’m okay with that.”

“Okay,” she murmured, and then she looked up at me. She was thinking again. I loved the way she looked when she was thinking – even when she was clearly sick – like now.

“Do you want to hear the thing you don’t know anything about, or the thing you kind of know about?” she asked.

Was this even a choice?

Of course I would ease into this.

“Let’s start with the thing I kind of know about,” I reassured. She let out a sigh of relief.

“I… I… in the forest,” her voice was already breaking and it killed me, “I… I was briefly separated from Harry.”

“Okay,” I murmured.

“When… When I was…” she shut her eyes so tightly I thought she was trying to glue them shut. Suddenly her hand was grazing across my arm, looking for mine; I grabbed hers and squeezed it, my heart in my throat. She held my hand for a long time, bracing herself; I held hers just as tightly as she held mine, swallowing and hoping I was helping.

I had to be helping.

What good was I if I wasn’t helping?

“When I was… alone… I cam across a… a b-boggart…” she whispered, “Ex… Except I didn’t… I didn’t know that it was a boggart.”

_No_

_Oh god no_

_No_

_No_

“Oh my god,” I whispered. I squeezed my arms around her. I had to keep her together.

I had to keep her together.

No wonder she was breaking apart.

“I… spent a good few minutes… th-thinking… that… that it was really…” she began to shake violently and her voice faded away.

She was having a flashback.

“Okay, okay, okay,” I murmured, instinctually stroking her hair and tucking it behind her ear, keeping her close to me, “You don’t have to keep going. I understand. Oh god, Maggie, I’m so sorry. No wonder you have nightmares. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh Maggie, I’m so sorry. Oh Mags. Oh… oh this is so… dammit… I’m so sorry Mags…” I held onto her tightly as she cried, rubbing her back and murmuring in distress. How dare they put a boggart in there.

How dare they.

How dare they torture my Maggie.

_She’s not yours._

She’s as good as.

She’s my best mate and she’s the person I care about the most and she’s my world. And I would be whatever she needed me to be, and right now she needed me to be her therapist, so that’s what I would be.

“Then… then Angelina was under the Imperius Curse… and… and… a-and…” she was stammering, and I wanted to help her, ease her pain.

“I know, she killed Zoe, Harry told us,” I reassured, “You don’t have to say that part.”

“N-No… it’s more than th-that…” she whispered, and now she was weeping into her hands.

“Okay…” _oh god. What else happened. Oh what else happened._

“I… she… sh-she…” she was gasping for breath, barely breathing; I squeezed her as tightly as I could, wrapping my other arm around her.

“Okay, okay, okay,” I murmured, “You don’t have to say anything more for now. It’s okay. It’s okay. You are safe, you are safe with me, and you’re okay.”

_I will never let anything hurt you._

_Never, never ever. Never._

_No._

She nodded and began to cry, and she cried a long time. I rubbed her back and murmured soothingly into her hair, rocking back and forth as she whimpered and shook and sobbed in my arms, and it was the most heartbreaking sound, and I just wanted to keep her together so I held her as tightly as I could. Lots of time passed; I didn’t care. I just had to hold her and make sure she didn’t shatter in my arms.

“She…” after a while she spoke again. I held her as tightly as I could, knowing that this would be hard – this could lead to a flashback – I had to make sure she knew she was _here_ , and not somewhere else, more horrible –

“She p-p-put the cruciatus curse on me,” she stammered out.

_No._

_No._

**_No._ **

I looked at her, because I had to etch her face as it was in my memory. She was sick and she was an addict and she was homeless and she was not herself, but at least she wasn’t insane.

I had to memorize what she looked like.

I had to know.

In case I lost her.

In case she was taken from me like my parents were.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no _no no no no no no no no no no no no no **no no no no no no no no no no NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO**_

I pulled her back to me.

I kissed the top of her head.

She had kissed me on the cheek once, I remembered it like it was yesterday, and I had to kiss her now, I had to reassure her now, I had to comfort her now,

Oh god

No

She didn’t do much in response, just continued to cry, so I pulled her closer to me again.

I held her as long as I could, enveloping her in my arms and keeping her together.

No.

Why, why did that have to happen to her.

Why.

This wasn’t okay.

This wasn’t fair.

No one was allowed to take away Maggie from me like _that_.

Not my best mate.

Not my –

Not my –

_Think it. It’s true, you know. You try to not think it because you’re not hers, but you have to think it. Because she’s yours._

Not my soulmate. Anyone but her.

please.

“Want to get food?” I asked her softly. I was hungry and I didn’t –

I couldn’t think about it anymore.

I couldn’t _picture_ it anymore.

Her, writhing on the ground, tortured, screaming –

No.

Stop.

Stop it brain, stop.

She nodded, and we walked together to a pizza parlor. I was trying to block the imagining from my mind, and I ate in silence, staring at my pizza and eating in half a daze.

She could have gone insane.

I could have lost her.

No.

No.

No.

We returned to the roof; I was still in a daze, and I needed to leave it.

Time for her to finish, to tell me the rest, to break me completely.

At least we’d match.

“Continue, if you want,” I begged. We were curled close around each other, huddling for warmth in the night air, arms wrapped around each other and her enveloped in me. She seemed comforted by this. She nodded.

“Well… as for the task… I guess the other… bad memory… is just watching… Harry disappear… and not knowing… where he went,” she finished, looking horrified.

“Yeah, I figured,” I sighed.

“That’s really it form that night, then,” Maggie shrugged, “I mean the rest of the task was… terrifying, don’t get me wrong… but those are the things that still haunt my nightmares.”

“Alright,” I murmured. She was trembling again. She was thinking of the thing I didn’t know – whatever that horrible, awful thing was – and she was dreading telling me.

I just knew.

I waited, hoping she would pull herself together, be ready to tell me.

But she never did; she just kept shaking.

I waited, and waited, but I knew night was falling, and soon we should sleep; I had to make sure I helped her as much as possible before sleep.

“Do you want to tell me about the thing I don’t know about?” I asked softly, looking at her with as much love as I could muster. She was safe. She had to know this.

She grabbed her knees and held them tightly to her.

“Oh god,” she moaned.

Fuck.

I shouldn’t have pushed.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me,” I begged, “Ever, if you don’t want.”

“I have to tell you,” she murmured.

“Well, you don’t have to tonight.” _Rest tonight. We can continue tomorrow._

_Take care of yourself._

“I could… I could have…. A nightmare about it, tonight,” she murmured, “I… I need you… I need you to… to understand.”

“Okay,” I murmured, and I no longer knew if _I_ wanted to know. She was shaking. She had pulled away from me. She looked like she was going to throw up.

What had happened?

Oh god, could I handle this, whatever it was?

“U-um… two… two nights before the task…” she was barely breathing, she had to force the air through her lungs tightly, and she was curled into a ball, her eyes squeezed shut again.

_The night before George broke up with you._

“Two nights before the task,” I repeated, helping her through it.

_If Hermione is right –_

“G… g… g….” she stammered.

“George?”

_If Hermione is right, and –_

_I will never forgive myself –_

_Never –_

_Never ever –_

_I should have kept that bastard away from her –_

_Why didn’t I keep him away from her –_

_I knew, I knew it, I knew he would hurt her –_

_Just don’t worst way –_

_Oh god let it not be the worst way –_

“He… he c-came… into the library… d-d-d-d-runk,” she stammered.

“Alright.”

_Please no, please no, please no, please no –_

“He… h-h-he… he…” she looked at me, and I looked back at her, hoping to god that this story didn’t end the way I thought it did.

“What did he do to you, Maggie?” I asked quietly.

“He…” she took a deep breath, before shattering my world, “He… he r-raped me.”

_I’m going to kill him._

_I’m going to take one of his beater’s bats and whack him in the head._

_I’m going to whack – whack – whack – whack – bash in his fucking skull – chop off his dick, too, while I’m at it –_

_Just cut it off –_

_The bastard, the fucking bastard, how dare he, how DARE HE, **HOW DARE HE**_

“Maggie?” I asked, trying to calm myself down, because she was shaking and avoiding a flashback and I was sitting in a pile of selfish, murderous thoughts.

“Can I hug you?” I asked quietly. She nodded so fast it was surprising; I quickly reached for her and held her, holding her as tightly as I could.

No wonder she was breaking apart.

I had to keep her together.

She sobbed into my chest; how dare he break her like this. How dare he hurt her. How dare he. She trusted him, she gave him her heart – a privilege, dammit, it was a gift, for her to do that – and he destroyed it.

How dare he.

I’m going to kill him.

I will be responsible for his end.

It will be because of me that he dies.

I will make sure of it.

And I will _enjoy it._

I will torture him, and make sure he never enjoys another second ever again.

But for now I had to help Maggie. I had to fix her.

“I am so sorry,” I managed to murmur after a while, “I am so, so, so, _so_ unbelievably sorry, Maggie.”

She looked at me, and she was still crying, and I wanted to kiss away her tears, but I couldn’t.

“You have to know this,” I begged, _please stop destroying yourself_ , “You _have_ to know this: it is _not your fault._ ”

She whimpered in disbelief and continued to cry.

“No, Maggie, it’s not. It’s no one’s fault but _his_. No matter how it happened – no matter what the circumstances were – it was absolutely, _entirely_ **his fault** ,” I nodded rapidly, _the dick_ , “Nothing about what happened was your fault in the slightest.”

“It’s… it’s really hard to feel that way…” she murmured, “Especially… because…”

“Because why?” I whispered, stroking her hair and holding to her tightly.

“I don’t… think h-h-he… knows what he did,” she gasped out.

“ _How_ can he not _know_ ,” I hissed.

How the fuck.

Do you not know.

When you’ve raped someone.

That bastard.

That horrible person.

I will kill him.

I will make sure he dies.

I will destroy him.

I will bash in his skull, and I will enjoy watching his brains go all over the floor.

“H-he… h-he… the next d-d-day… he talked to me like it was just sex,” she sputtered, “H-he… was upset I didn’t _like_ it… and broke up with me.”

**_I AM GOING TO KILL HIM._ **

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” I hissed – I couldn’t keep it bottled up anymore, “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking kill him. I’m going to kill him.”

“Please… please stop,” she whimpered.

I felt bad, but I couldn’t hold it in.

“He doesn’t deserve to _live_ , Maggie, after what he did to you, never mind deserve to have functioning limbs,” I hissed. I would destroy him.

I would tear him apart.

Like he tore apart my Maggie.

“I don’t want you to be a killer, Neville. I don’t really want anything. I just want to move on,” she whispered, “Not talking about it didn’t work, so I’m trying this.”

I sighed.

I understood.

“I don’t want him to get away with this.”

“I… I don’t particularly, either, but I don’t have the energy to do anything right now,” she sounded so tired.

“Okay,” I reassured, “I understand that.”

 _Stop being selfish_.

_Think about her._

“You are a wonderful, amazing person, who deserves to have only good things happen to them, and you did nothing to deserve this happening to you, and you have done nothing wrong, and you are wonderful, and deserving of so much more,” I begged, “ _So_ much more.”

_I love you._

“Okay,” she whispered.

I stared at her for a long time.

Do I tell her?

Do I tell her now, and reassure her that she’s worthy of love?

She deserves the universe.

She deserves to be loved.

She was my world, and she had been destroyed, and there was nothing I wanted more than to help her stay together, and I wanted her to know –

_She was so loved._

_So loved._

_So infinitely loved._

I pulled her in for a long hug.

She wasn’t ready for anything now, and even telling her might be too much for her.

“No wonder you don’t even want to come home,” I sighed, now understanding so much why she ran – I no longer even _began_ to think it had to do with me, “Every facet of it must be triggering.”

She nodded, her face still streaked with tears.

“Alright. I think that’s enough story sharing for one night,” I sighed, “You should get some sleep. I should, too, but I doubt I will.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I am so… so amazingly horrified by what has happened to you… that I can barely think straight,” I murmured, “I’m torn between my need to… to help you and care for you… and my deepest desire to go and kill that son of a bitch.”

“Please don’t kill him,” she begged, “I don’t want you to be a murderer.”

“If anyone deserves it, it’s him,” I muttered without thinking.

I had to kill him.

I had to make sure he died.

He deserved nothing less, after what he did to her.

“I don’t care, I don’t want you to do it,” she begged.

“And I won’t. But it probably means I’ll be up all night,” I sighed, “It’s okay. I’m glad I’m up all night worrying over things I know about you, and not worrying over the unknown with you.”

_I think I can keep you alive, and that’s all I wanted._

I curled up against the roof wall, ready for a long night of no sleep and constant horror. But she wasn’t curling up anywhere.

“Well? You need sleep,” I murmured soothingly. She was shaking from head to foot.

_Oh right._

_The heroin._

“Oh, right,” I sighed, “What do you need me to do? I will literally do anything. Hell, I’ll get you _alcohol_ if it’ll help… it’s better than heroin at least…”

She shook her head madly. I watched her curiously.

“Then what should I do? I’ll do anything,” I begged.

She was shaking again, and she looked scared.

Oh Mags.

Why are you scared?

I’m here, I’m not going to hurt you.

I promise.

“C-c-can… can you… can you hold me? While I sleep?” she asked.

My mind was blank with shock.

“Really?” I asked, “I figured… what with what happened… you’d want space. And lots of it.”

“You’d think, but… I feel… very safe… with you,” she mumbled.

I acted instinctually. I got up, I walked over to her, and I held her in my arms, as close to me as I could. She nestled against me, her head on my chest, so she knew how quickly my heart was beating.

Sleeping next to Maggie.

Sleeping with her, in my arms.

This was so far, far, _far_ from where I had been just a few days ago.

She wasn’t dead, she was alive, and I was going to keep her that way, and she was sleeping next to me, curled up in my arms, and I had dreamt about this for so long that I couldn’t process it was happening.

 _I love you_.

She fell asleep fairly soon; I watched her sleep, so peaceful, so beautiful if sick, so wonderful. She was amazing. She was so strong.

I would never have been able to get through what she had gotten through.

My Maggie.

I wondered, idly, as I fell asleep with her, if she knew that I loved her, or even how _much_ I loved her.

I think she knew a little.  

**Author's Note:**

> That was fun! And depressing! 
> 
> My favorite! 
> 
> In all seriousness, I will probably write the rest of the summer from Neville's POV, too, but I had to end it here, because I wanted to end it and get it out there. So. That was fun. And depressing. Wee! Soon he'll get to realize she loves him, don't worry. And I'll post a chapter in the main story soon, too!
> 
> PLEASE COMMENT. I haven't been getting many lately and it's seriously impacting how much I can write. Thanks!


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